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Episode Two.
Scene Eight. Mary's Graduation.

              [After passing all her other exams, a graduation ceremony is held in the lounge]

    Killian   Mary, when you came to live here those seven long days ago, I thought you
              were rubbish. Rubbish, I tells ya. But, it seems you're not all that rubbish
              after all.

    Mary      [sort of pleased] You silver tongued bastard.

    Killian   Yes, Mary, you're only a whisker away from giving up your lucrative job in loss
              adjusting to become an unpaid magistrate. Lord Jools, on the Wurlitzer, please Sir,
              will you take it away! Let the final pumping begin...

              [Game showesque - Jools plonks about on an organ, erratically but not badly]

    Killian   [tapping a board with a cane, a photo of a woman, playing the double bass] This is a
              picture of a woman playing the double bass. Is that legal?

    Mary      Yes... as long you don't see her doodle.

    Jools     [singing]
              The double bass is ace, and there'll be no legal case,
              Unless you're rash and you flash your gash.

              [on the photo, Killian rips the double bass off. The woman, sat in exactly the
              same pose without her instrument, has her nudeybits hidden by a red cross.
              A buzzer sounds.]

    Killian   Very good! Now then, what crime am I miming? [he holds up his arms]

    Mary      Hands. Wrists. Elbows. Arms! Arms!

              [touches his nose and points, a la Give Us A Clue - then wobbles his arms around]

    Mary      Wobbles. Rubber. Waiter, this chicken is rubbery! No. Wobbly hands.... rubber arms...
              Armed Rubbery!

    Jools     [singing]
              If you follow the mime and commit the crime,
              You're an armed rubber and you'll do time.
              [he wags his finger]

    Killian   Absolutely right! And your final test... [he unveils a fairground bull-horn
              strength tester] You must conquer the bull of injustice. [the machine snorts & moos
              - Mary dusts her hands, takes the horns and tries - she struggles as we go into the
              intermission]

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    Kid 1     Mum, we want to play, but it's raining.

    Mother    Here you go, play with my handbag for a while.

    Kid 2     Aw, mum, handbags are booring! We want guns, with real bullets.

    Narrator  Hey, Girls! Think handbags are boring? Boys! Think handbags are girly, and for girls?
              Well you're all wrong! This is the '90s, and there's something new in your handbags.

              [the handbag wobbles, grumbles, and roars]
              [an old-timer runs to the hills]

    OldTimer  There's monsters in them thar handbags!

              [the kids poke in a stick, and fight with the monsters inside]
              [improvisational jazzy song, not really fitting for a children's advert]

    Song      Monsters in your handbag, there's monsters in your handbag... oh yeah,
              There really are a number of them, eating your lipstick, what a drag,
              And giving birth to smaller monsters in the secret compartment, oh man.
              Lay it on me, bro.

    Narrator  Monsters in your Handbag was recorded in front of a living studio audience.

Scene Nine.
The Welcoming.

              [Mary struggles with the bull, in some pain]

    Killian   You can't win. Give in!

    Mary      Must... vanquish... bull... [struggles further, then falls exhausted to the floor]

    Killian   Excellent! You have done well, Justice Mary Highpole.

    Mary      But the bull still lives.

    Killian   The bull cannot be beaten. Crime will always roam the streets, snorting, mooing,
              and trampling innocents with its four hooves of murder, theft, bum sex and
              miscellaneous other. But Mary, you fought the bull, and you didn't even see the
              futility of literally wrestling a metaphorical bull.

    Mary      Oh.

    Killian   You will use this idiotic stubbornness every day. It's a crusade, Mary,
              and you must be willing to be gored by angered bulls when you wave the red rag of
              virtuous integrity. Red rag having nothing to do with tampons.

    Mary      Oh. Will I get gored often?

    Killian   More often than you'd like. [rubbing his sides] Believe me.

    Jools     [still playing the organ]
              She grappled the bull and wouldn't budge,
              From her navel to her gavel she's a bo-na fi-de judge!

    A Note about Monsters In Your Handbag...
    Ideally, this is to coincide with a release of a range of toys called "Monsters
    In Your Handbag". The groundwork has been done by Monsters In Your Pocket,
    and I sincerely believe that there is a market for handbag based Monster
    products. And I am very sorry about "Armed Rubbery".

    Make me read more!